In the third month, snow fell over Yujing.
It fell heavily, but spring had already arrived, so it melted into water as soon as it touched the ground.
The snow that landed on Achou’s braid turned to droplets, clinging wetly to her face. Mingling with the blue-green birthmark that stretched from the end of her left eyebrow to her cheekbone, the water made it look as though someone had splashed an entire inkstone’s worth of ink over her face, ruining it completely.
Achou looked up at the snow filling the sky. She thought snow must come from clouds—so white, so clean. Yet once it fell, it turned into muddy water and was despised by everyone…
“Slacking off again? Hurry up and scrub. The masters will need those first thing tomorrow!” The Head Matron came over, pinching her nose. She was about to hit Achou but drew her hand back, unwilling to touch anything so dirty.
“I’m not! I’m not slacking off! Look how many I’ve scrubbed!” Achou pointed to the chamber pots she had already cleaned behind her.
She had been sold to Marquis Yongchang’s Residence at the age of eight. This was her sixth year there.
Because of the birthmark on her face, she could only work as a menial maid, kept far from the masters.
Every day, she worked from the fifth watch until the second watch, chopping wood, boiling water, and scrubbing chamber pots.
No one wanted to speak to her, and no one remembered her real name.
Everyone called her Achou. After six years, even she had forgotten what she used to be called.
The Head Matron cursed at her a few more times, calling her things like “ill-omened” and “bringer of misfortune.” Achou took none of it to heart. She had endured six years of scolding and had long since grown thick-skinned.
The main hall of Marquis Yongchang’s Residence.
Marquis Yongchang and his wife knelt on the floor, trembling.
A middle-aged man in a python-patterned robe sat in the hall. His face was pale and beardless, and his voice was high and shrill. He was a eunuch.
“Marquis, I’m only carrying out orders.” The eunuch picked up his teacup and leisurely blew the froth from its surface. “Though His Highness has been deposed, he is still of the imperial bloodline. His Majesty personally granted this betrothal years ago. The bride has yet to enter his household, and tomorrow His Highness is to be exiled to Wuzhou. So, Marquis, you must tell me whether this marriage will go ahead.”
Beads of sweat as large as beans appeared on the marquis’s forehead. “It will! It will certainly go ahead! My daughter is already preparing her wedding clothes. She’ll leave tomorrow. We wouldn’t dare delay His Highness’s departure…”
“Good.” The eunuch smiled. “His Majesty says the betrothal is to proceed as planned. Before His Highness is exiled, none of the proper rites are to be omitted. The customary third-day visit to the bride’s family may be waived, but the Crown Prince’s Secondary Consort must accompany him.”
The marquis kowtowed repeatedly. “Yes, yes, this humble official understands. I’ll see to it at once!”
The eunuch nodded in satisfaction, rose, and left.
The marquis slumped to the floor, gasping for breath.
His wife rushed over in tears. “Master, Yingjier is only fifteen! How can she marry him? That deposed Crown Prince has both legs broken, and he’s being sent three thousand li away to the bitterly cold borderlands of Wuzhou… He might die on the road! If our Yingjier goes with him, how will she survive?”
“Do you think I want this?” the marquis demanded through gritted teeth. “His Majesty personally granted the marriage, and now he’s taking a personal interest in it. You think we can simply refuse? That would be defying an imperial decree! Deceiving the emperor! Do you want the whole family to lose their heads?”
His wife wept even harder. “Then what are we to do? With Yingjier’s temperament, there’s no chance she’ll agree to marry him…”
Before she could finish, a maid stumbled into the hall, her face deathly pale. “Marquis! Madam! Something terrible has happened! Eldest Miss, she…”
“What happened to her?”
“Eldest Miss tried to hang herself in the embroidery tower! Fortunately, she was discovered in time and saved, but she hasn’t stopped crying. She says she’d rather die than marry that cripple…”
The marquis sprang to his feet, then sank helplessly back down.
His wife burst into loud sobs. “I knew it! I knew it! Yingjier is so headstrong—she really would do something like this! Master, think of something!”
The marquis closed his eyes, his mind racing.
The marriage had to go ahead.
The emperor was watching, and the entire court was looking on. The marquis’s residence couldn’t afford the disgrace, much less the crime of defying an imperial decree.
But Yingjier would rather die than marry him. Surely they couldn’t drive her to her death.
The main hall fell utterly silent.
Just then, the Head Matron’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Marquis, this old servant does have an idea.”
“Speak.”
“If Eldest Miss can’t marry him, we can find someone to take her place. After all, the bridal sedan will be carried straight to the city gate to join the exile party. There’ll be no need to bow before Heaven and Earth or offer wedding toasts. Put a red veil over her head, and who will know who’s inside?”
The marquis frowned. “What if we’re found out?”
“Then we’ll say Eldest Miss was so distressed that she fell ill on the way, and at the last minute we had her personal maid stand in for her during the wedding rites. There are precedents for this in the old customs. Even if His Majesty finds out, would he really make an issue of a deposed Crown Prince’s marriage?”
The marquis pondered for a moment. “But who should go?”
“Achou.”
“Achou?” The marquis and his wife spoke in unison, as though they had forgotten anyone by that name lived in their residence.
“A menial maid with a birthmark on her face. That’s why everyone calls her Achou.”
“A menial maid? With a birthmark on her face?” His wife’s eyes widened. “How can we possibly marry her off to the Crown Prince?”
“Madam, think about it,” the Head Matron said, stepping closer. “Precisely because she’s ugly, no one would believe our residence would use her as a substitute bride. The least likely person is the safest choice.”
The marquis nodded thoughtfully.
The Head Matron continued, “And if the truth ever comes out, we’ll still have a way out. We’ll say the maid didn’t know her place and impersonated her mistress in hopes of climbing the social ladder. Then we’ll push the blame onto her, have her beheaded, and be done with it. It will have nothing to do with our residence.”
The marquis and his wife exchanged a glance, then slowly nodded.
“Her, then.”
At last, Achou finished scrubbing the chamber pots.
Before Achou could even finish her yawn, someone grabbed her and hauled her up from the ground.
“Come!”
Two unfamiliar guards dragged her to the main hall.
It was the first time since she had entered the residence that she had ever set foot in the main hall.
The Head Matron pulled Achou up from the floor, looked her up and down, and nodded in satisfaction. “She’s a little thin, but once she’s wearing the wedding dress and a veil, who will know who’s underneath?”
His wife glanced at Achou and frowned in disgust but said nothing.
The marquis cast a sidelong glance and sighed. “Make the arrangements!”
Achou stood there, trying to make sense of what she had heard.
At cockcrow, a red bridal sedan was carried out through the main gate of Marquis Yongchang’s Residence.
There were no firecrackers, no wedding music, no procession to escort the bride—only a coachman.
Achou sat inside the sedan in a wedding dress that was obviously too big for her, a length of red silk draped over her head.
The sedan made its way north toward the city gate.
Wind poured through the gaps in its curtains, making her shiver uncontrollably. She heard people talking in the street.
“Whose daughter is getting married? Why isn’t there even any music?”
“Shh, keep your voice down. I heard she’s marrying the deposed Crown Prince. He’s being exiled today. Maybe this is a wedding meant to ward off misfortune!”
“A wedding to ward off misfortune? That poor young lady…”
Achou lowered her head and thought, “The one meant to ward off misfortune is a fake young lady. How could the real young lady be made to suffer…?”
The previous night, several older household matrons had dragged her away, scrubbed her clean, and put her in the wedding dress.
“Achou, being allowed to serve the Crown Prince in our young lady’s place is a blessing you earned over eight lifetimes. The marquis and Madam are merciful. If you serve the Crown Prince well, they’ll return your bond of servitude to you someday. You know that when the slave broker sold you to us, he signed you over under a permanent bond!”
“Do you know what to say when you meet the Crown Prince?”
One of the household matrons had seized her by the ear and painstakingly instructed her on what to say. Afterward, she rapped Achou on the head.
“Say the wrong thing, and you’ll be guilty of deceiving the emperor. The Crown Prince will have your head chopped off!”
Her head was still buzzing… Someday—when was that supposed to be? She had heard the deposed Crown Prince was paralyzed… Surely a paralyzed man wouldn’t despise her face…?
While she was still lost in thought, the sedan came to a stop.
“We’ve reached the city gate,” the coachman called from outside. “People from the palace are here to inspect the sedan.”
[Reading guide] The story features a man trying to win his wife back and a pregnant heroine who runs away. It is a purely historical romance, with no rebirth, transmigration, or special cheat abilities. The pacing is slow and steady, and the style blends sweetness with heartache. This is not a high-intensity, wish-fulfillment revenge story, nor is it a typical exile-and-farming novel. It interweaves social realities, adventures, palace intrigue, and political power struggles. At present, I haven’t decided whether the ending will be a happy one for the couple or see the heroine thriving on her own. I’ll decide as I write. The hints and foreshadowing will be subtle, stretching across a long span of the story.